Articles by Amy Probst

Opinion

I am standing on my back porch, marveling at what turns out to be a sunrise as beautiful as the ones on vacation, over lakes, or fields of green. Marveling, because this is a Hamtramck sunrise, and it's never occurred to me before that crumbly urban areas had such things as sunrises. Or sunsets.

Good morning, glories! Backyard views from alleys and trains show us a soft, vulnerable view of life. We are sneaking in the back door, spying on real lives.

Good morning, sunflowers. Sunflowers are everywhere in Hamtramck, evoking memories of the past.

Good Morning, Squirrel. Squirrels stay out of focus now that grown-up eyes can see them more clearly.

At Elf's House.

Not a Pet.

A tree essay.

Good Morning, Puggles.

Kitty, Kitty.

Immaculate Conception.

Home in Hamtramck.

A Hamtramck fix to tide everyone over until next week. A look at a Detroit neighborhood during a power outage.

Beeing.

Good Morning, McDougall St. Families of first generation Americans behave in certain predictable manners. Adults tend to keep to their own kind, usually, because theirs is the only language they speak. The kids, however, share a world, floating down a river of English that their parents can only watch from the shore. First appeared 2003-12-20

Short

An exerpt from the 2002 NaNo Novel, Dunder Chief.

Sixty bucks from selling most of their clothes, some ham sandwiches, and a hunting knife is all the girls have to see them safely to Florida. Their first ride calls them stupid little girls, but even at sixteen, sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

Some of us are haunted by ghosts, shadows of the past that were once ourselves but have been deliberately left behind, sacrificed so that the living can rest in peace.